


Pause to Breathe

by misura



Category: Chronicles of Amber - Roger Zelazny
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:54:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28751751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: Deirdre and Fiona catch a moment's rest during the battle with the forces of Chaos.
Kudos: 2





	Pause to Breathe

"I shouldn't feel this good, should I?" Deirde said suddenly. The fighting had ended, either for the day (however such things were measured in this place) or for a while.

Fiona would have liked to know, to have a firmer understanding of what was happening here, what powers were in play already and which ones might yet be courted or assuaged. She tried hard not to think of Brand, if only to deny him the satisfaction of finding himself so prominently featured in her thoughts. (Brand's vanity might yet be used against him, and it would be a waste to blunt it too soon, for no purpose.)

Considering Deirdre instead seemed like a harmless, pleasant enough distraction. Corwin's favorite sister - and what would Brand make of that stray thought, were he to catch it?

Fiona idly wondered if Corwin had seen something in Deirdre the rest of them had always missed, or if this new, militant Deirdre would have surprised him. It did not do to underestimate someone like Corwin, and yet, sometimes, one would find one's relatives exactly as one had always imagined them.

"If we have not yet won, then at least we have not lost, either," she told Deirdre. There were spots of black blood on Deirdre's armor, though her axe had been cleaned. She looked heroic and beautiful and every inch a Princess of Amber. "Feel as you wish. No one here will judge you for it."

Deirdre smiled. Fiona was struck, unexpectedly and not entirely welcome, by the realization that Deirdre was beautiful. Not pretty-beautiful, but beautiful the way a thunderstorm or a force of nature was beautiful.

"I think some of the boys feel a bit put out."

"Ah," Fiona said, nodding wisely, turning Deirdre's smile into a full laugh. "Well. Understandable enough."

Deirdre shook her head. "Silly."

"Boys often are, I've found, and our beloved brothers are no exception," Fiona said. "I'm sure Benedict is only too happy to have you on the field."

Hard not to reflect now on what might have been, if only Benedict had wanted the throne, if only Corwin had stayed out of the game, if only Brand hadn't -

"We can't win this, can we?" Deirdre asked, voice softer, gentler.

"Under the circumstances, not-losing may be enough," Fiona said. Harder still not to reflect on what might be, what might have come to pass that no one here yet knew about. "Time works in our favor."

Deirdre grimaced. "I'd rather win."

"Of course."

"Or, if we can't, I'd like to go out in a blaze of glory."

Fiona smiled. "Now you sound like one of the boys."

The sound of a horn rang out: not one of theirs, Fiona judged. No rest for the wicked, after all.

"Well, I won't say they're all bad. I'm sure that sooner or later, I'll impress them enough to make them not mind sharing their toys so much."

_We may all be dead before that happens,_ Fiona thought, watching Deirdre's grin slip a little. _Then again, we may not._

"Do you know, I think you may very well be right."

"You could at least sound a little surprised," Deirdre said.

"Not today," Fiona replied comfortably. "Today, I am only prepared to display a very limited number of emotions, and I fear surprise is not among them."


End file.
